Under the Influence
by boxers-or-briefs
Summary: After a night of redefining oneself, a Camden child breaks the rules. The consequence she received was a bit pricey, and now it’s not her parents she has to face and impress. R&R![Complete]
1. Hangover

_**Under the Influence**_

One: _Hangover_

She was caught up in the music, the movement of bodies as they rocked back and forth to the rhythm. This night had been one of a mission: to redefine oneself. Everything she did – everything she said – was something out of character for her. Whoever she was before this moment, was lost forever. She was done with her 'minister's daughter' image, was determined to leave it in the dust. No matter how good or godly she was, it was never enough, not even for her. It was finally time for the booze-induced shaking and shimmying off every concern, every insecurity, to begin.

As her boyfriend, Brian, passed by her, she reached out and grabbed onto his shirt. "Dance with me, baby," she yelled over the music, her words slurred.

He threw back his head, finishing off his sixth beer. Tossing the bottle aside on a nearby table, Brian took her hands in his and together, they enjoyed what was left of the party before the cops came and broke it up. Thankfully the officers weren't ones that recognized Ruthie, and she got off easily, slipping out the door in Brian's shadow.

* * *

It hurt to even open her eyes. The sunlight that was pouring in from the windows was too bright. Her head was killing her, though she did not understand why. As far as she was concerned, last night had been perfectly normal. Truth be told, she did not remember what went on last night, but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. 

Fighting for her vision, Ruthie slowly widened her eyelids. Water gathered in front of her eyes, which she wiped immediately away with the sleeve of her pajamas. Sitting up, she shoved the bedcovers off her body, and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. The wooden floor was like ice under her bare feet as she made her way to the bathroom for a refreshing shower. She hoped that would make her headache magically disappear.

Steam filled the bathroom as the water became hot. Soon, the mirror would fog up, but that was really the least of her worries. She slid her top off over her head and stepped into the water. Instantly, her body was wet, her hair drenched and heavy. Within seconds, she was lost in her thoughts as she mechanically reached for the tube of shampoo.

Downstairs, the remaining Camden family was seated for breakfast. Conversation was something that was rarely missed at meals, but today no words were exchanged. Annie's pancakes were undercooked and the bacon was burnt to a crisp, but they all shoved forkful after forkful into their mouths, each desperately wanting out of this uncomfortable situation.

Opening his mouth for another bite, Eric Camden stopped his fork mid-way. He looked around at his family, wondering if they had heard it too. Water was running upstairs, something that was impossible as they were all here, staring right at him.

"What is it, Eric?" Annie asked as she set her glass of orange juice back down onto the table. Her eyebrow rose as she carefully studied his odd expression.

"Water upstairs. Listen," he explained as they all perked their eyes and concentrated. It wasn't long before they all were forming thoughts about what could be happening.

Seeing this as an opportunity to leave the table, Simon spoke up. "I'll go check it out," he volunteered, and before anyone could stop him, he was gone.

As he reached the second floor landing, Simon quickly eliminated the bathroom on that floor, meaning the water had to be coming from the new bathroom in the attic bedroom. Feeling somewhat nervous, Simon made his way up the attic stairs and turned left, finding himself facing a closed door. He reached out putting his hand on the knob, and opened the door.

The heat from the shower made it difficult for him to breathe. His eyes darted around the room, looking for signs other than the running water that someone had been there. When he found none, he sighed, feeling relieved.

Ruthie had just rinsed the suds from her hair when the shower door came open. She snapped the towel from where it hung over the side and pulled it around her.

"Hey!" she screamed as her brother leaned in, reaching to turn off the water. "What do you think you're doing?!"

But he paid her no attention as the water halted.

"Fine. I was done anyway," she grumbled as he left the room, trying not to feel defeated.

Ruthie wrung out her hair, and with her towel still hugged tightly to her body, she came out of the shower. Thankfully no one was around, leaving her to dress in peace.

As Simon resumed his seat at the table once more, Eric asked him, "What was it?"

Simon shrugged, "The shower was running." And that was all he said.

There was no way Simon could deal with his family's everything's-fine façade anymore. How could they act as if she had never mattered? His parents were the worst. They were the ones who brought her into the world, but now that she was gone, they seemed so ready and willing to let her go. He hated them, hated their fake smiles and cheerful voices. It was painful to even be around them.

This afternoon he had a counseling appointment with Doctor Gibson. Going to see him had become a part of his daily routine. Every day he got into his car and drove down to the office and waited until two o'clock when it was his turn. His parents would hope against hope that he would say something, anything, expressing his feelings, hoped he would make some kind of breakthrough. But he never did, and he loved the disappointment in their faces as each day passed by.

Simon sat on his bed as he shoved his foot into a shoe. There was a full ten minutes before he had to be at Gibson's office. Needless to say, he was running a bit late, and if he didn't get his butt out the door within three seconds, his father would come and personally kick him out.

Doctor Gibson was about the only thing Simon and his father had in common anymore, but Simon couldn't care less. As far as he was concerned, the person he had shared a room with, the person he had been the closest too, was gone and he was furious. His family seemed completely sympathetic for her, and Simon could never understand why. Now they were all upset with him, when he was only a victim – like them.

Simon stumbled out of his room, attempting to tie his shoe while continuing down the hallway. Finding that multitasking was not his forte, he kneeled down. He was hoping that he could get out of the house before either of his parents came to lecture him about being on time.

Ruthie stepped off the last stair from the attic and emerged into the second floor hallway where she spotted her brother tying his shoe. She marched over to him, fully intending to give him a piece of her mind about how rude it was to interrupt one's shower. He needed to see the error of his ways and, of course, give her the apology that she deserved.

"Simon, you owe me an apology," she demanded as he started in on his other shoe. Usually when she spoke to her siblings, they at least gave her enough respect to listen, but this wasn't the case. "Simon," she called to him, but nothing changed. She was beginning to lose her patience with him. "Simon!" she screamed at him.

At first, Simon seemed to have heard her. He had looked up and glanced around the room, not once did his eyes make contact with hers. She appeared to make nothing more than a disturbance in the air.

She threw up her hands in disgust and let them slap her sides when they fell back down. "Wait. _You're_ ignoring _me_?" She scoffed. "That's great, Simon. How old are you, five?"

Suddenly he stood and continued on his journey to his car parked in front of the house. Before he could take two steps more, Ruthie reached out her hand, trying to grab hold of his shirt. No one walked away from Ruthie Camden. But she touched nothing. She felt nothing. Her hand had gone straight through her brother's arm and came out the other side.

"How…?" she stammered, not able to find any words that could even come close to describe what she was feeling.

Simon was completely out of sight before she even moved a muscle. Carefully, she turned her hand over slowly then back, trying to find something abnormal about it, but there was nothing. Ruthie laughed uneasily. This was a dream. It had to be. People just didn't walk through each other as an everyday activity.

Sighing, Ruthie shook her head and descended the stairs. "I should _not_ have gotten up this morning."


	2. Unforgivable

_**Under the Influence**_

Two: _Unforgivable_

Annie entered her husband's office searching for nothing more than a pen but what she ended up with would make her the angriest she'd been in a long while. Sitting smack dab in the middle of Eric's desk was a newspaper. On the front page was an article that she had wanted to forget was ever written.

Eric stood entirely still in the doorframe of his office, daring not even to breathe the slightest breath. He stared wide-eyed at the item in his wife's shaking hands, frightened. He had promised her he would throw it out – had told her he had weeks ago - when really he hadn't had the courage.

She looked up at him, fire blazing in her eyes. "I thought you got rid of this," she said, jaw clenched, close to losing her temper.

Eric found no words, could only choke out small, inhuman, throaty sounds. There was no excuse for what he had done, and by not doing what he said he would, just caused more pain that was uncalled for. The family had already been through enough in just the past month.

"Why the _hell_ didn't you throw this out!" she cried, slamming the newspaper down on his desk.

_Sometimes_, Ruthie told herself, _things happen that you can't exactly explain. Oh, whom are you kidding? You were drunk last night; it was probably just a hallucination._

Ruthie crept up as near as she dared to her father's office. Her parents rarely fought, and when they did, it was disheartening, but she had to at least know what they were on about. Just because she wasn't a little kid anymore, didn't mean that she had to grow out of her Camden trait of sneakiness.

What was her mother talking about, and why was she so angry? Whatever it was, it was big enough to get her off the hook. Neither of her parents had gotten on her tail for getting in hours after curfew. She couldn't even remember what time she had crawled into bed, but she was sure it was well after three in the morning.

"How could I, Annie?" Eric asked, finding his voice and his courage. "It's our little girl." His voice was shaking and he knew he was close to tears, but he didn't care.

Annie scoffed. "This is how you want to remember her?" she asked, lowering her voice to where it was barely audible and dangerous.

Once again, Eric was beat. There was nothing he could say, no perfect excuse. This was the cold hard truth staring him straight in the face. He hadn't known why he didn't do what his wife had asked. It was simple, mundane, really. Taking out the trash is what any man should do, but this was different.

"Of course not," he whispered, tears stinging behind his eyes.

Annie glanced back at the desk where the paper lay. Without warning, she broke down, tears glistening on her aging face as they fell. She cried long and messily, just as a child would when they were told they couldn't have something that they desperately wanted. It was the sort of crying of a person who had lost something they could never get back.

Ruthie felt her heart sink. She had only heard her mother cry like that once before, and that was when her mother had died of leukemia several years ago. Ruthie sat Indian-style on the floor as she continued to listen.

Eric moved to comfort Annie, embracing her tightly, not caring if his good shirt got wet or not. It had been a painful time for all of them, and they were all still trying to move on. Nothing seemed to matter, it just happened, and not one person could figure out why.

"I'll _never_ forgive her," Annie sobbed. "Never."

"I don't know why Ruthie did what she did. It _was_ unforgivable. She knew better; we taught her better."

Annie fell silent, her sobs halted. "Are you saying that she got what she deserved?" she asked, her voice unsure.

"No! No, no, no. My point was that we can forgive our daughter, but not her actions," Eric explained hastily. "Ruthie was responsible – her alone."

Ruthie found herself overwhelmed with guilt, but she didn't know why. She had caused her mother this great pain, but there was nothing that stood out in her mind about what had taken place that might have caused this.

"I was so angry with her," Annie continued. "Heck, I'm _still_ angry with her, but I don't want to be. I feel guilty for feeling like this." Eric nodded. "I mean, my daughter's dead and –"

The rest of her mother's words drowned under the sudden pounding of blood in Ruthie's ears. For countless moments, Ruthie sat there, feeling herself being disconnected from reality, losing herself in disbelief. Her mother really _had_ gone crazy. Annie and Eric both. They thought she was dead? What a stupid idea. After all, she was sitting right here, flesh and bones.

Approaching footsteps snapped Ruthie out of her reverie. She moved quickly, scrambling to get around the corner of the office and out of sight. Ruthie watched as her parents left the room, arms around each other as they walked into the kitchen. When she was sure the coast was clear, she went to take a closer look at what they were making such a big fuss about.

As she got closer and closed to her father's desk, she could feel her nerves escalating. Her body was shaking as she leaned over and looked straight into her own face. She gasped and put a hand to her chest, as if that would slow her heart rate. The headline read: **_Teenagers Killed While Driving Under Influence_.**

_Last night tragedy struck home hard for two local families of Glenoak. Two teenagers, Brian Rivers, 17, and Ruthie Camden, 16, were killed after what started out like a normal evening. Their car slammed into another vehicle while driving home from a potentially wild party. Rivers was killed instantly, while Camden, daughter of Reverend Camden, was rushed to the hospital in critical condition where she fell into a coma and died six hours later. Both Camden and Rivers were under the influence of alcohol. See page A2 for funeral service dates and times._

Ruthie tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it was impossible. Screwing her eyes shut, she began to remember. She remembered everything.

_She never once questioned what she was about to do; she was going to let Brian drive even though he wasn't sober. But neither was she, and unless she wanted to arrive home in a cop car, Brian was her only escape. He'd gotten her home safely before when he was drunk, why should this time be any different? _

_They laughed as they got in the car. Excitement of getting away from the police and the intoxication of the alcohol was getting to them. Forgetting their seat belts, they started in on the five-mile drive to the Camden home. _

_The radio was on so loud that it hurt her ears. She asked Brian to turn it down but he refused, setting off the fight they had. Ruthie couldn't remember what was being said, but it didn't seem important. With the added distraction of her fiery screams and rants, Brian didn't take any extra care to watch the street signs. She didn't even notice when they came to an intersection that the light was red, and neither did Brian. _

* * *

The clock in Doctor Gibson's office tick-ticked away second after second as the two sat in complete silence. It had been a kind of staring contest, or at least one to see how long the other could go without talking. Simon didn't know about Gibson, but he knew he could sit here the rest of the session without saying a single word. He'd done it before, what was to say it wouldn't happen again? 

"Do you even know why you are here, Simon?" Doctor Gibson sighed, reaching for the Bic pen behind his ear. Simon just watched as the man scribbled something down on the yellow pad of paper that sat on his lap.

"Why are you writing? I haven't said anything," Simon snapped, suddenly feeling as if he had to be defensive. He shifted in his leather seat, somewhat expecting the doctor to answer him.

"You are here," Gibson continued as if Simon hadn't spoken, "because your parents noticed a change in you. They told me you haven't been yourself for a while now."

Simon rolled his eyes, and became decidedly busy with picking dirt from his chewed-down-to-the-quick fingernails. He mumbled, "Of course I haven't been myself, my sister died."

Gibson offered his sympathies, "I was very sorry to hear about Ruthie."

Simon made a deep, throaty sort of sound, halfway between a grunt and a scoff. "I'm not," he said as clear as the light of day.

Gibson's eyebrows furrowed as he prepared to write something else down in his sloppy scrawl. "Why is that? Didn't you love your sister?"

Simon could feel anger rise in his veins as he briefly threw the doctor a dirty look before glancing away again. "You don't even know how she died," Simon grumbled.

"Tell me, Simon. Tell me how she died." Doctor Gibson knew very well how Ruthie Camden had died. He had read it in the paper himself. Maybe if Simon went through and relived it, he would have more of a chance to discover why he was so angry with his sister, and perhaps be on his way to forgiving her.


	3. Nothing but a Shadow

_**Under the Influence**_

Three: _Nothing but a Shadow_

"_If you weren't so stupid, you would know to shut the hell up!" Brian screamed at her, his words slurred from all the alcohol. _

"_Well, if you were a real man, you would do what I want you to do!" Ruthie spat, turning in her seat to where she was fully facing him. _

_Brian looked at her, taking his eyes away from the road longer than necessary. "That's the problem with you women. You're always thinking the world revolves around you, but it doesn't!" _

_They were nearing the intersection and neither of them took notice. Ruthie opened her mouth to say more than a few rude words, but was cut short of breath when she became aware of the cars coming at them over Brian's shoulder. She screamed just as an impact was made, throwing her boyfriend, who hadn't been wearing a seatbelt, onto her as she was jerked sideways, her head colliding with the window. The last glimpse she managed to get before she fell ultimately unconscious was Brian's piercing, unblinking blue eyes staring up at her, blood almost entirely covering his face. _

"I'm sorry!" Ruthie screamed out, letting the newspaper fall to the floor from her limp grasp. "I'm sorry."

Her father stood in the doorway to the room looking upset and confused. For a second, Ruthie stopped crying, her breath ceased. It seemed as if he had heard her, was _watching _her. She could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Daddy?" she called uneasily, walking toward him. Her fingers were twitching – she wasn't sure if she should reach out to him or not.

Eric shivered, feeling a sudden cool draft. He sighed and stepped further into the room, his arms crossed as if he was shielding the cold. His brow furrowed as he spotted the tribune on the floor. Wondering how it ended up on the ground, Eric bent to pick it up, unknowingly going straight through his deceased daughter's ghost.

Ruthie jumped back, not only seeing her father's head slice through her form, but also feeling it. She thought that death gave you certain advantages, the absence of pain being one of them, but she was wrong. Having someone cut through you like that kind of stung – like you were jumping into a pool of ice-cold water. It was like there were a thousand tiny needles sticking her everywhere on her body.

Her father hadn't seen her after all, and in a way, that hurt even more than being dead and invisible. The silent heart in her chest sank and tears welled in her coffee-colored eyes. She could scream all she wanted, but no one would ever hear her. Even if she stood in a crowd with hundreds of people and screamed at the top of her lungs, not one person would look up or turn their head.

* * *

"I went to see her in the hospital," Simon recalled. He glanced up at Doctor Gibson who was staring at him with such intense interest he had to look away. There was a small hole in the bottom of Simon's shirt and he instantly began playing with it, feeling a need to fidget.

"How'd that go?" Gibson asked as the boy continued to mess with his shirt.

Simon sighed and shrugged as he remembered.

_He held her hand in his, felt the vague warmth generating in the space between their palms. Her skin was pale, ghostly, compared to the bright red blood creeping through the white bandage that was wrapped tightly around her head. She was so beaten, bruises forming on her scratched skin, making it difficult to even look at her._

_Truthfully, he was angry with her. Hadn't she enough sense to not go to a wild party where there would be without doubt drugs and alcohol? Their parents trusted her to follow the guidelines they had set, to use the knowledge they provided her with. Unfortunately, she chose to ignore everything she had previously stood for, and this was what happened._

_Simon wanted to take her by the shoulders and give her a good shake – maybe shake her until her head fell off. Ruthie was supposed to be the smartest person in the Camden family – had said it herself. She was the one person who knew him best, knew how he felt. He could not believe that it was she who ended up in the hospital in critical condition, and not him. _

"_How could you do this Ruthie?" he asked her staring at her expressionless face. "How could you be so stupid?" His grip on her fragile hand was tight enough to break the bones, but he didn't care. She deserved it. "Damn it, Ruthie. I hate this." He released his hold on her and let his head fall into his own hands. _

"_Did you learn _nothing_ from my experience? God…" _

"You were angry, Simon. You didn't do anything wrong."

Simon glared at the man who sat opposite him. "She was _dieing_," he spat. "I should have said something other than 'I hate you'."

Gibson cleared his throat and set down his pen. "Simon, you didn't know that she was dieing at the time. You cannot blame yourself for the words said in anger. Ruthie knowingly made a mistake and that wasn't your fault." He pushed back his sleeve to look at his watch. "We'll continue this discussion tomorrow. Time's up."

"I look forward to it," he replied sarcastically under his breath as he stood.

* * *

Lucy had been cleaning all morning and Kevin was beginning to feel concerned to a certain degree. She had been Ms. Fix-It all week, and he thought there was a connection between her handiness and her sister's death. Kevin himself had not been put out on the scene, which was something he was grateful for. He didn't want to be the one to record every detail of Ruthie's accident. It was unfortunate, though, the way Ruthie had died: young and drunk.

Kevin put a large, calloused hand on his wife's shoulder as she made the bed for the second time that day. Lucy turned around to face him with a smile on his face, but her eyes lacked that sparkle that always shone. He knew she wasn't okay, and he was positive she knew it too – even if she didn't admit it right away.

"Honey, the bed was fine the first time you made it," Kevin said with worry dancing in his eyes.

"It had a wrinkle in it," she replied, going back to tugging on the sheet corner. "I had to fix it."

"Since when did you care about a single wrinkle?" he asked, finding his wife's newfound attitude bizarre.

"Don't you have to go to work?" she asked, clearly avoiding the question. "It's almost nine."

Kevin shook his head. "Lucy."

She whipped around and he had to take a step back to keep from getting run into. "Kevin, you don't have to fret about me," she said playfully. "I'm fine."

"You're _being_ a perfectionist," he argued.

Lucy laughed. "What's wrong with that?"

Kevin shrugged. "Nothing, but it's not _you_. You aren't being yourself."

She stood on the tips of her toes, reaching up to plant an emotionless kiss on his cheek. "I'm fine, and that's the last I want to hear about it."


	4. Guardian Angel

_**Under the Influence**_

Four: _Guardian Angel_

Simon pushed the door closed as he arrived home that afternoon following an excruciating visit with Doctor Gibson. Honestly, he never thought he would talk about anything, and now that he had, he was mentally kicking himself for doing it. If his parents ever found out, and they _shouldn't_ – confidential matters – he knew something inside him would snap.

"Simon?" his father called. "Is that you?"

Simon stopped and sighed. He had hoped that coming in the front door would allow him to just sneak up to his room without being noticed. "Yeah, Dad, it's me."

"Come here, please," he said from his office.

Simon obliged and soon he was sitting across from his father, feeling as if it was another therapy session. Eric seemed to be reading over his sermon, correcting it if you will, and Simon wondered what his father could possibly want from him this time.

Eric laid the page down on the desk and removed his black-rimmed eyeglasses. Looking into Simon's eyes, he asked, "How'd it go today?"

Simon shrugged. "Fine," he replied shortly, matching his father's gaze.

"What did you talk about?" his father inquired with a gentle smile.

Simon smirked. "Unless I'm mistaken, Dad, that information is confidential." His father had used that excuse with him so many times in the past; it felt good to finally throw it back at him.

A brief expression of hurt scurried across Eric's face, but quickly disappeared as he regained his composure. "I'm your father, Simon. You can tell me anything. I want you to open up to me."

"I don't have anything I want to tell you."

"Why can't we ever have a mature, trusting, relationship, Simon? Why must you always hide behind your sarcasm?"

Simon laughed. "You're the one who is forcing me into therapy, Dad. You obviously didn't trust me enough to just come to you." He got to his feet and, with a last glance at his father, left the room.

* * *

As she paced around her attic bedroom, Ruthie wondered why she hadn't just listened to her brother in the first place. On some level, she knew Simon was right; she _shouldn't_ have gone to that party. He warned, and what did she do? 

I got myself killed, that's what I did, she answered.

_There was a car horn honking outside and Ruthie knew her ride was here. Brian was to take her to the party and bring her home, regardless of how drunk either of them were. She knew there was going to be drugs and drinking, but she didn't care. She had had enough of her parents trying to tell her what was good and what was bad. In her eyes, she was old enough to make her own decisions. Tonight would be crazy, and she hoped to come home with a new reputation. As they say, "out with the old, in with the new."_

_Ruthie raced down the staircase, thinking she would get lucky and not have to go through her parents' lectures of how to be safe again. Her hand was on the doorknob before she heard a voice that was neither her mother's nor her father's calling her name. _

_She sighed and allowed her hand to drop to her side. Turning, she saw Simon stepping off the last stair. He had been bothering her all night about what to look out for. Frankly, he was almost worse than Annie and Eric._

"_What?" she spat. _

"_I just wanted to remind you of what I said earlier," he replied calmly._

_She rolled her eyes. "How could I forget?"_

"_Be careful, Ruthie. I mean it." His eyes held brotherly concern and unease. Simon had gone to a party much like the one she was headed to tonight, and was completely wasted by the time he had gotten home. _

"_Why are you doing this to me?" she asked. "Must I suffer because you can't get over your mistake?"_

_Simon seemed to flinch, and Ruthie knew she hit a nerve. "I don't want you to go through what I went through. All I want is for you to be careful."_

_Brian honked again and Ruthie flashed her brother a faux grin._

"_Simon, you don't have to worry about it. I'm smart and responsible. I can take care of myself."_

_Then she was gone, never to step over the threshold again._

"Oh!" Ruthie grumbled as she quit pacing and threw herself onto the bed. She was still having a hard time comprehending that she wasn't really there anymore. Not _alive_, anyway.

A bright light crowded the room, forcing her to shield her eyes. The light quickly faded, but a man, maybe thirty or so, was left behind.

Ruthie somersaulted backwards off her bed and hid behind it, her head just poking over the top. "Who are you?" she asked him. He wasn't bad looking, kind of pale though.

He laughed at her expense. "Relax," he chuckled. "You don't have to be scared of me. I was sent to you. I'm Kendall."

The man was clad in white; there was not a piece of clothing that was something of color. He was wearing a suit of a powder sort of shade, complete with spotless matching shoes. As Ruthie's eyes traveled up more toward his head, she noticed a round, headband-looking thing circling his cranium.

"Um," she stammered, pointing just above his head.

"Oh." He reached up and removed it from its floating position. "This is my halo," he explained, smiling.

"I still don't understand."

He sighed. "I'm an angel here to guide you."

Ruthie looked disappointed. "You're a little late…. I'm already dead."

"Boy, you just don't get anything, do you? I'm not here to guide you through life. I'm here to guide you through death."

Ruthie came out from her shelter and sat on it instead. "That doesn't make any sense."

He came to sit by her. "I'm supposed to show you the ropes, then decide if you're Heaven worthy."

"Oh," she muttered, feeling her stomach flopping around like a fish on dry land. Getting in to Heaven was a big deal, but she didn't know if she was ready. Was she really prepared to leave her family?

* * *

When Kevin returned home that night from work, he found Lucy cleaning once again. He didn't really know what else he expected. There had to be a reason behind this, and he was determined to get down to it. 

"Lucy," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her away from his CD collection she was madly dusting. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but you have to. This may sound childish, but if you don't talk to me, I'm telling on you."

She looked confused but went along with it. "Okay…. I'm cleaning because the house is dirty. Dust gathers and dirt clings and –"

"No, Lucy," he interrupted. "_Why_ are you cleaning all of a sudden? You didn't run yourself ragged before, why now?"

She shrugged. "There's a lot to do."

Kevin looked into her eyes and locked her gaze. "Lucy, is there a chance that your cleaning could have anything to do with Ruthie's death?"

Lucy scoffed. "That's ridiculous." She pushed passed Kevin and locked herself in the bathroom.


	5. Over It

**Under the Influence**

Five: _Over It_

The countertop was cold beneath her hands as she skimmed her fingers across it. Looking down, she wondered how she couldn't really be there. She wondered why surfaces were solid, but people were unreachable. The only things she could feel were the very same things that she could care less about. For the first time in her life she felt very alone, very empty inside, like she was truly gone.

Tearing her distant gaze away from the tile, she looked up at her younger twin brothers, Sam and David, who were currently sitting on the bar stools - not ten feet away from where she stood – enjoying a snack of apples and peanut butter. Ruthie smiled at them for only a brief period of time before her frown came rushing back. Thoughts of how she would never get to see them grow up crowded her mind.

Slowly, she walked to them, longing to reach out and touch their innocent faces. They were so young. How could she have left them so soon? Did they even understand why she was gone, or what had happened? But more importantly, did they miss her?

"Feeling a bit guilty?"

Ruthie didn't even jump at the sudden voice behind her shoulder. She continued to wallow in who she could have been, what kind of role model she could have become, to her brothers.

"Why am I still here?" she asked absently, her voice strangled and strange. "Why is this happening to me?" She turned to Kendall with tears in her eyes.

He smiled. "I told you already: you're in question."

Ruthie sighed and bowed her head as if she was ashamed. "No," she whispered. "Why do I have to be in this house? Why am I being tortured like this?"

Kendall lifted her chin and studied her tear-stained face. "There's really no rhyme or reason to it. You're here because this is the place you are most attached to." Kendall glanced around, quickly scanning the room. "This is where your heart lies."

"I can't see how you can possibly be this calm. You're as dead as I am, and I don't hear you complaining," she stated. "Don't you miss your family?"

He just grinned at her and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "I've been dead for twenty years. I'm over it."

* * *

Lucy sat on the wooden bench in the backyard of the Camden house. She couldn't take being cooped up in her stuffy apartment anymore, and she was afraid to even step foot inside her parents' house. Already she knew what was going on behind the closed blinds and sturdy walls. There would be screaming and crying, the air would be heavy with grief and _that_ she couldn't handle either.

She had gone in there one day last week, and since then she hadn't been back. What she witnessed was something she had never seen before, something she wished she _hadn't _seen. Initially, she'd only gone to see her mother, ask her how she was doing, maybe receive some sort of comfort. She never did see Annie that day.

Lucy climbed the stairs of her childhood home to the second floor in search of her mother, in need of reassurance. She was almost there, could see the door to Annie's bedroom, but was instantly distracted. Screams of defiance and anger filled the hallway. Her brother Simon and her father were in for another round of fighting about a very touchy subject: Ruthie's death.

The woman knew Simon was having a difficult time coping with the tragedy that had hit home hard, was going through it herself, but she had never been so bold as to express those personal feelings out loud giving the world permission to marvel at how weak she was inside. She felt that if she were to fall victim to herself, she would never be able to recover.

_She took a few steps away from the landing, not wanting to be in anyone's way, but moved no further than that. Sighing quietly, she allowed herself to fall back against the wall and listened to what was going on._

"_Damn it, Simon," her father yelled. "You weren't the only one who loved Ruthie! We all loved and cared deeply for you sister, and it's hard for all of us to get on with our lives!" _

"_You might try showing it then so the rest of us don't feel like idiots! You and Mom are so happy and normal and it's killing me. It's like you aren't even human," Simon's voice faltered with rage._

"_Your mother and I are still grieving for Ruthie, we always will be, but sooner or later, you have to get on with your life! Don't you see that?" Eric paused. "Simon, you aren't the only one who is haunted by Ruthie's death. You aren't the only one to whom Ruthie was important to." _

_Silence._

_Then her father spoke again in a much quieter voice, Lucy had to strain her ears to hear what he was saying. "If you can't possibly comprehend that you are not alone in this, I don't know what to tell you."_

_The door opened and her father appeared, his eyes instantly locking on her emotionless face. Lucy turned and fled down the stairs, not wanting to give him a chance to round on her. There was nothing he could say that would make her feel better. _

Of course, that had been over a week ago and she had talked to her father since then, but nothing they ever conversed about had anything to do with Ruthie. Lucy didn't know if her father – her father who counseled people as a part of his job – was afraid to bring anything up. But if he was willing to forget the expression on her face, then she was _more_ than willing to toss out the feeling that went along with it.

Suddenly the back door opened and Simon stepped outside, looking extremely cross and upset. She watched him descend the porch steps and make his way across the yard. Part of her wanted him to sit with her, wanted to ask him what was the matter, wanted to comfort him like she would have done in the past. But the other half, the colder, darker half, the half that was lost, wanted him to stay far away from her, didn't even want him to acknowledge her.

Obviously, Simon _did_ see her and he _did_ acknowledge her. He said nothing to her, only glanced at her as he swept by. Lucy highly doubted that he would have stopped if she hadn't called him back.

"Come sit with me," she said. "Please?"

Simon studied her and tried to figure if he should stay. He had just gotten out of another verbal battle with his father, and he really didn't feel like sticking around. But it was Lucy, who he never got to see that much, so he took a seat.

"What's going on?" he asked her as he felt his anger slowly begin to subside.

Lucy looked into his eyes and he saw such despair in her soul that matched his own exactly. He, who had had trouble connecting with Lucy before in the past, found that their pain was something they shared. In one look, the tables turned, their roles were switched, and it wasn't Lucy who wanted to comfort her brother. She wanted to be consoled. She wanted to hear someone say that she wasn't insane; she wanted to be held by someone who she trusted with her life.

Tears welled in Lucy's eyes, making them shine bright in the harsh light of day. Without one reservation, Simon drew Lucy close to his chest and allowed her to cry messily on his shoulder.


	6. Sentimental Value

**Under the Influence**

Six: _Sentimental Value_

"You were right," a weak voice whispered. Kevin studied Lucy's reflection in the bathroom mirror as he set the down the bottle of hair gel that he held in his hand. She had come up behind him to stand in the doorway with her arms folded protectively against her chest. Wet tear streaks that ran the complete length of her face were reflected in the fluorescent light.

Kevin watched his wife as she continued. "I was doing anything and everything in my power to not think about Ruthie. And as long as I wasn't thinking about her, it felt like everything was normal…or kind of like she never existed."

"Oh, Luce. I'm so sorry," Kevin said, turning to gather Lucy in his strong arms.

Lucy allowed herself to be held. "I just couldn't begin to think about how she died. I still can't imagine life without her."

Kevin rubbed her back. "It's going to be okay, Lucy. I promise you. We're all here for you. We'll get through this together."

"But what if we won't?" she asked, looking into Kevin's eyes. "Every second of the day, I keep asking myself over and over again, 'what if I had been there for her more?' and, 'what if I had let her in on my life a little more – what if I had talked to her about more things?'"

Kevin stepped back, taking hold of Lucy's arms and squeezed them. "Lucy, understand that this is _not_ your fault. It's no one's fault. There was nothing you could have done to prevent this from happening. Ruthie chose her own actions. You didn't choose them for her." He expected Lucy to say something – anything – but she didn't. When he searched her eyes, there was nothing. "I know on some level you know that," he added quietly.

Lucy shook her head, hanging it in sadness. Tears dropped from her eyes onto the floor. She tried to swallow the sobs that were forming in her throat, but they escaped anyway. Slowly, Lucy slid to the ground, feeling like there was no reason for her to be happy again. Kevin went down with her, refusing to let her go.

"Baby, I love you. It's not your fault," Kevin repeated, he himself feeling close to tears. "Say it. Say, 'it's not my fault'"

"I can't," she faltered, her crying becoming more intense.

"Lucy, please," he begged. "Say it for me?"

She looked up at him, instantly becoming eerily quiet. Her eyes were searching him, looking for anything she could translate as being a lie, but he was clean. Everything he said was in her best interest and she knew it.

Sighing shakily, Lucy began uneasily, "It's…not my fault."

Kevin smiled a little. "Again. Say it until you believe it."

"It's not my fault."

* * *

_Clink._

Kendall's glowing golden halo hit the floor with a soft, high-pitched sound. She stared at it while Kendall hadn't seemed to notice it was missing. He was busy scanning multiple papers in a manila folder that he had pulled out of thin air with a very professional expression gracing his pale face. Ruthie felt as if she was in a job interview and whether or not she got the position would be decided right then.

"Ahem," Ruthie cleared her throat to catch his attention. Kendall, startled by the sudden noise, jumped and sent the papers of the file flying everywhere.

"Oh, _shoot_," he exclaimed. "What?"

Ruthie suppressed a giggle. "Sorry," she apologized. "I was just going to tell you that your headband fell off."

"It's a _halo_," he said corrected her, sounding irritated, "And it's _always_ falling off."

"Are they supposed to do that?" she asked. "You know, fall off?"

Kendall shrugged and kneeled down to pick up the scattered documents. "Occasionally. When they get old, it's really time to replace them. The Big Guy special ordered one for me…it just hasn't come in yet."

"The 'Big Guy'?" she asked.

"Yeah…you know." He got to his feet and smiled at her. "God."

"Oh," she sighed. "What _is_ that anyway?" She nodded to the file that he gripped tightly with both hands.

"It's your entire life. Everything you've ever said, everything you've ever done, every thought. It's all right here." He tapped it lightly with his fingertips.

Her jaw dropped. "How can all of that _possibly_ fit into one folder?"

As Kendall immediately began to reorganize the pages, he replied distractedly, "God works in mysterious ways."

Ruthie was reminded of her father with those simple words. He had always told them that anything was possible with God, had even used that exact sentence. If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought Kendall was mimicking him.

Kendall raised an eyebrow as he looked up at her over the folder, "If only your father knew what you were thinking during his sermons."

Ruthie shrugged and smiled menacingly. "What can I say? I wasn't perfect," she replied, unknowingly referring to herself in the past tense for the first time.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head at her. "No. I'd say you were downright naughty."

She laughed, giving Kendall a wink. "Only sometimes."

* * *

It was late at night, long after Kendall had left her alone to her thoughts and to her family who didn't even know that she was still there. To the extent of their knowledge, she was in her grave, slowly decaying with each passing day, if they wished to think that way. Although, that was highly unlikely, as she knew each of them thought she was resting peacefully along side God. The house was silent – all but one living person were asleep. 

Ruthie stood in Simon's doorway, watching him lay awake in his bed with a familiar article of clothing clutched tightly to his chest. It was the T-shirt she had been wearing the day of the accident. She wondered how he came across it, thinking for sure it had gotten thrown away at the hospital. Why did he want to keep it? She was certain that it smelled like booze, cigarette smoke, and blood – nothing like her.

She stepped further into the room until she was standing at Simon's bedside. Over the past few days, she had been listening to him and Eric fight and it was painful to have to know that she caused all of this. How could she have been so selfish? All of her actions were meant to benefit no one but herself. The only thing she could think about was changing her image, but that didn't work out, needless to say.

Simon tightened his grip on the fabric as Ruthie noticed the gathering tears in his eyes. The last time she had seen her brother this upset was the summer of the Accident. No Camden member had ever gone through that tough a time, and it killed Ruthie to see Simon like that. She wished it had been she who killed Paul Smith just so she wouldn't have to see Simon in that much emotional pain. Everyone had changed that summer.

This time was different. She couldn't go through this pain for Simon because she was the one whom he was grieving. A kind of chill ran throughout her body as his clouded eyes drifted unknowingly over her grim face. He turned onto his side, pulling the shirt up by his face.

Ruthie climbed onto the bed, occupying the open space next to her brother and laid on her side so they were face-to-face. She watched him close his red, puffy eyes and waited until his breathing slowed.

"I'm so sorry, Simon," she whispered, wanting desperately to reach out and touch his face, to feel the warmth of his skin; though she knew she would come into contact with nothing but the open air.

Everyone in the family had someone, a special someone, to give extra support. Annie had Eric, Matt had Sarah, Mary had Carlos, Lucy had Kevin, and the boys had each other. But Simon had no one. Now that she was gone, he was alone. She wished he knew that she was here, actually lying right beside him. She wanted him to know that she would never truly leave him. Death wouldn't stand in her way.

"I love you."


	7. Secret Keepers

**Under The Influence**

Seven: _Secret Keepers_

The orange light of early dawn was begging to peak through the darkened clouds and creep down the quiet, still streets of the small town. Ruthie Camden watched from the front porch, sitting on the cold, wooden bench with her knees pulled up to her chest, her chin resting on them. In all of her life, she had never once seen the sun rise, taking place of darkness, and for a few solitary moments, making everything right in the world. And only those who were sleepless with turmoil saw this beautiful occurrence.

It would just be a few more minutes before the lights of the house across the way would flick on and the day would officially begin. The streets would come alive with cars and people whose small children would laugh because to them nothing bad existed. She missed those days.

She sighed deeply, heavily, and watched silently as the sun peeked over the rooftops.

As she stood to go back into the home that didn't feel like hers anymore, she felt eyes on her back. Slowly, she turned her head and glanced over her shoulder. She gasped.

"Hi," he said softly, smiling.

Ruthie looked away, anxiety the only thing running through her veins. She clenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her skin. The last memory she had of seeing this man was of him staring fixedly into her eyes, dead.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, suddenly feeling somewhat dizzy.

When he spoke, his tone was light, "Oh, I've been all over town. This was the last stop on my list."

His hand was on her shoulder.

She whipped around and glared into his cheerful eyes. "What's the matter with you, Brian? Is the afterlife treating you _well_?" she asked sarcastically.

He shrugged, his grin never faltering. "It's alright."

She scoffed. "Do you think this is all just some big fat joke!" she screamed, "Because it's not. You're never going to see anyone that you care about again! This is it."

Brian put his hand to her face and looked lovingly into her bright eyes. "The only person that I care about it you. And here you are." His lips brushed against hers and, for a moment, she was enticed by his kiss.

"No!" she exclaimed, pushing him away. "This is crazy! What about your parents? Aren't you going to miss them? They love you."

Brain's smile disappeared and he retracted his hand. She had his a nerve. "No, I won't miss them, and I'm sure they won't even be thinking about me. The only time they'll even have to deal with me is when they're picking out my coffin and putting me in the ground at my funeral." He paused, averting his eyes and shoving his balled-up fists into his pockets.

Ruthie was instantly reminded of an insecure, little boy who was being picked on by bullies. Her facial expression went from angry to sympathetic in a half second.

"Then it's back to the divorce and arguing over who gets that stupid, ceramic antique elephant that they bought together."

She took a step toward him, laying her hand on his shoulder and looking up into his eyes. "Brian, I am so sorry. I didn't know."

He shook his head and tried to smile. "It was easier with you by my side – even if I never told you about it."

Ruthie reached up to brush the tear from Brian's cheek. "Well, you were never one for sharing your emotions."

He chuckled as she snuggled up to his chest. Brian kissed the top of her head before pulling away gently. She looked up at him, confused.

"I should go," he said and turned before she could say anything.

"No," she cried and grabbed his arm, "Stay with me."

Brian studied her pleading face and nodded. Her lips curved upward and she led him over to the bench.

* * *

It was thirty passed two and Doctor Gibson's office was completely quiet, save for the rustling sounds as either of them moved. Gibson sighed and tapped his pencil impatiently against the yellow pad of paper. He glanced from the clock to Simon, who had not yet said anything more than "Hello".

"Simon," Gibson said, breaking the silence, "I think it's time we talk about forgiveness."

The young man looked up at him blankly. "I can never forgive her for what she did. That would be like saying what she did was okay."

"I'm not talking about Ruthie," Gibson replied softly. "You need to forgive yourself first."

Simon scoffed and looked down at his lap. "I'm not angry with myself."

Gibson cocked an eyebrow. "The last time we spoke you expressed some distress about what you said when she-"

"I know exactly what I said," Simon interrupted angrily then repeated, "I'm not angry with myself."

The elder man said nothing as he knew they would get nowhere by arguing over who was correct.

"Fine. Have you been to visit her grave?" he asked.

There was a long pause and Gibson wondered if he was ever going to get an answer.

"No," Simon whispered, refusing to look this other man in the eye. "Not since the funeral."

"Perhaps that's the first step to getting over this. It might be good for you to go. Maybe take her some fresh flowers if you'd like."

Simon looked out the window, staring off into the clouds that were floating slowly by. He heard what Doctor Gibson was saying, but knew that it would be impossible for him to bring himself to do it. If he went to the cemetery, it would just solidify that she was really gone. How could he face the fact that his little sister was never coming back?

Even at the funeral it had seemed surreal; like it was someone else's daughter, sister. He hadn't completely accepted what Ruthie had done like everyone else around him. And now Doctor Gibson was asking him to face his fear, but he didn't think he was strong enough. He didn't think he would _ever_ be strong enough.

* * *

Lucy hadn't been down to the church in days, which, on top of everything else, was beginning to make her feel like the world's walls were closing in on her. Since five-thirty that morning, she had been awake. Kevin had kissed her forehead before leaving for work like he always did. Last night, after her breakdown, she had thought she could be the new Sleeping Beauty, but now sleep seemed to be impossible to achieve.

She hauled herself out of bed and put on a fresh pot of coffee. Sighing, she rubbed her hands over her face and could almost feel the bags under her eyes. There was a knock on her door.

"Come in," she bellowed, grabbing her bathrobe from the back of a dining table chair as her father climbed the stairs to her apartment, a bouquet of yellow roses in his hand.

"Hey, you," Eric greeted her, kissing her forehead. "These came to the door for you," he explained as she smiled and accepted the flowers. "I thought I would drop them off on my way to the office."

Lucy eyed the flowers curiously. "Yellow roses are my favorite." She sniffed the elegant plants. There was a card attached.

"Who're they from?" Eric asked, but obviously already knew.

Lucy smiled and rolled her eyes at her father's lame attempt to be innocent. With a careful thumb, she opened the envelope and slid out the card. It read:

"_It's not your fault._

_Love, Kevin"_

Eric was grinning when she looked up at him. "I'm sorry," he said. "I read it on my way over here."

"That's not very polite, Reverend," she joked, going to put the fresh roses in a vase.

He shrugged. "Well, I'm the Dad, what can I say?"

She flicked the water faucet off and set the vase as a centerpiece for the table. There was a short, uncomfortable silence before Eric spoke up:

"So, now that I've read the card, I think it's time you tell me what it means."


	8. The Power of Want

**Under the Influence**

Eight: _The Power of Want_

"Of course, my parents, may they rest in peace, never realized that 'Kendall' was a stupid name," Kendall rambled as he sat with Ruthie, who was completely silent, beside him on the bench in front of the Camden home.

Ruthie had forgotten what it felt like to be held by someone who cared about her, but the comfort came with a price. A rush of unwanted emotions rushed back to her and the serenity she felt while lying in Brian's arms vanished as soon as he let go. Never in a million years would she feel like she couldn't fend for herself without her boyfriend, but now that she had seen him again, she yearned for him, for his touch, for his arms around her, for his warming smile. It must have taken death to prompt her feelings.

"The kids at school teased me relentlessly, called me 'Ken Doll'. Ooh, I just wanted to-"

"This isn't fair," Ruthie loudly interrupted, throwing her hands up in the air. Kendall watched her, confused and surprised at her sudden outburst.

The expression on his face angered Ruthie even more as she knew he would go off on how it was rude to interrupt someone.

She dramatically rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Oh, I'm _sorry._ I'm sorry that you were tormented as a kid, I'm sorry that you were named after an eight-year-old girls' toy! But you know what? One day, I'm just fine. I'm minding my own business. And then the next thing I know, you're invading my room, telling me that I'm dead and in limbo!"

"I wasn't actually _named _after-" Kendall muttered.

"This isn't _fair!_" she screamed. "I mess up once in my entire _life_ and this is what happens? There are more people in this world who have done way worse things and they get to live! Why is that! Is it because I'm Ruthie Camden, the Minister's Daughter? Am I not allowed to make mistakes!"

"Everything you do has consequences. It doesn't matter who you are," Kendall replied, feeling his own anger level rise.

"There are other things that I could have received as a consequence. I could have just been grounded forever, but _no. _I had to _die!_"

"Do you even realize that for the past five minutes of complaining, you've only shown concern for yourself? Do you even realize that the moment you got into that car, you were a danger to every single person on the road?"

"Oh, what would you know about it?" she demanded, knowing he was right, but not wanting to give in to him.

"Everything." Kendall got to his feet, towering over this tactless teenager, and stared her in the eye.

Ruthie laughed. "Sure. And how did you die, Mr.-I-Know-Everything? Were you some sad teacher with a love for a woman that you knew you couldn't have so you took a chunk of your worthless time to write a long, tragic letter to her before popping a few pills and chugging down a bottle of cheap alcohol?"

Kendall's cheeks were red-hot with rage. "Actually, I was a highly qualified surgeon who was killed by someone like _you_!"

Ruthie's heart skipped a beat and could feel her eyebrows furrow.

"That's right, Ruthie Camden. I was killed by a drunk driver and that is exactly why I was sent to you," he said, lowering his voice. "Apparently, you didn't have enough sense in your brain to listen to your brother who loves you."

"Simon," she whispered, instantly feeling lower than dirt.

"Yes, and thanks to you, he is desperately failing at coming to terms with your death."

Ruthie bowed her head. "'Thanks to me'," she repeated under her breath.

"He loved his family – you – more than anything else in the world. Yet, out of everyone, you were the one that could read him like a book. He felt the most comfortable around you more than anyone else. And now that you are gone, he has no one."

Ruthie looked up at Kendall, tears glistening in her eyes. "Kendall, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you that way."

The man smiled. "Well, thank you for the apology."

She nodded. "I wish there was a way that I could tell that to Simon too."

"If you want it badly enough, you can."

Ruthie froze. "What?"

* * *

"Dad, I'm okay," Lucy reassured her father as she poured him a cup of fresh coffee. "Really." 

Eric smiled and took a sip of the steaming caffeinated beverage. "I just worry about you. I never know what you're thinking because I haven't talked to you since…" he trailed, unable to finish.

Lucy rested a hand on her father's shoulder. "I know. And, to tell you the truth, I've been avoiding you because of that. I was scared to talk to you."

A confused expression crossed Eric's face. "Why? I'm your father. You know you can talk to me about anything."

She sighed and sat in the chair next to her father's. "I know, Dad. At that time, I wasn't ready to accept Ruthie's death and since you seemed to handle it so well…. I just wasn't ready." Lucy averted her gaze to her hands in her lap.

"Lucy," Eric called her attention. "I haven't been 'handling' your sister's passing well at all. Maybe I seem like am because I deal with these kinds of things all the time."

"So…it was an act?" she asked and Eric nodded.

"I cannot tell you how many times I've asked myself what I could have done on my part as a parent. I haven't gotten a consecutive eight hours of sleep since I got that phone call."

Lucy nodded. "I know what you mean, but ever since I talked to Kevin, I've been doing better."

Eric glanced to his left. "The flowers?" he asked, looking from them to his daughter.

She smiled. "Yes."

Eric took another sip of coffee. "Maybe I need to talk to Kevin."

Lucy laughed. "I'd better get in the shower. I'm actually going to go down to the church this afternoon."

"I was just on my way over there. If you want, I can hang around and give you a ride."

Lucy kissed her father on the cheek. "That would be nice. Thanks."

* * *

A chilly breeze blew straight through her translucent figure as she walked through the cemetery. Along with hoping to run into Simon here, she wanted to see her new home for as long as the world shall exist. As a child, she was always kind of disturbed by the whole cemetery deal, and now that she was buried in it, it wasn't so bad. After all, her grandmother Jenny was buried near her, which supplied some sort of comfort. 

She found her grave marker without much trouble and slowly made her way towards it. Ruthie hadn't thought this would be as hard, but she was oh, so wrong. Her stomach churned as she scanned the shiny gray stone. Engraved was:

**Ruthie Renée Camden**

**Beloved daughter, sister**

**You are missed deeply**

**In God We Trust**

**R.I.P.**

**December 28, 1989 – August 5, 2007**

All she could think about for the first minute that she stared at these words was, "That must have cost a _lot_ of money." (Money that the Camdens certainly did not possess.)

A sudden sound snapped her back to reality and she whipped around, the fact that she couldn't be seen not a comfort to her, although she didn't quite understand why she felt she had to hide. Simon was making his way through the cemetery, pushing the branches of the willow trees aside. She pulled herself up off the ground and swung around to the back of the tombstone so that she and Simon would be face-to-face.

Simon kneeled down and occupied the indents in the grass Ruthie had made only moments before. He seemed to be tracing nameless patterns through the short, green stalks. After a few moments had passed by in silence, Simon sighed.

"Okay, um, I don't really know why I'm here. But it's you - and Gibson told me to so here I am." He paused. "It's been quiet without you. I don't think anything will ever be the same. The boys miss you. They asked me the other night when you were coming back. They don't understand completely that you aren't, even though mom and dad have explained death to them a million times."

Ruthie closed her tearful eyes and concentrated, balling her hands into fists.

"_How badly do you want it?" _she heard Kendall's voice break through her thoughts.

"I want it more than anything," she replied out loud. She dug her fingernails deeper into her skin.

"Please," she cried. "Please let him see me."

"_You have to want it with all you heart to get it. You have to have no desire for anything else in the world."_

"Please," she sobbed. "Please."

Ruthie threw all of her strength into breaking the barrier of the two dimensions with the power of Want and realized that she had never sought after anything more than this – to be seen – in her life.


	9. Stained

**Under the Influence**

Nine: _Stained_

Tears were leaking out of the corner of her eyes as she dug her fingernails deeper into her skin. She felt as if she were being squeezed through a very tight hole. Her lungs were crushed. She couldn't breath; it hurt too much. A harsh wind forced her hair back behind her, thrashing in the air.

"Let him see me," she demanded through clenched teeth. Her jaw was tight and beginning to ache.

She didn't know how much more of this excruciating pain she could endure. A pressed sob sounded in her throat. Her determination grew stronger as did the pain.

"Please," she mouthed.

Her skin erupted with goosebumps as an intense cold raged within her. Uncontrollable shivering was soon replaced with a sweltering heat in her chest. It was as if her heart was on fire.

A white light flashed behind her eyes and suddenly she was tossed into an unfamiliar room. She hugged her arms over her chest for warmth as the fluorescent lights overhead flickered, dimming the room. It was silent. She could hear the light sound of her shoes as they hit the hard, tiled floor. Everything was gray here.

She observed the room, took everything in, and was seemingly drawn to the single metal table in the center of the room. A white sheet was pulled over a form with no name. Reluctantly, she gripped the end of the thin fabric and yanked it backward.

She screamed. The stench was horrendous, but was nothing compared to what she was staring at. It was her body that was lying there. It was her eyes that were staring back blankly. There was a trail of dried blood snaked from her hairline to the corner of her mouth.

Ruthie backed away and turned to run, but the floor was giving way to her weight and down she fell right into another frightening scene.

She was trapped in her body. She couldn't move, she couldn't see, but she could hear. Simon was with her. He was yelling, crying. She couldn't count how many times he said she was stupid, but he only said "I hate you" once, which was enough.

Simon had never said that to her before and now she knew how painful it was to hear. She didn't blame him for hating her – she hated herself – but it was still hard to hear. Her mind was paralyzed. She couldn't speak. Over and over she said she was sorry, but he couldn't hear any of it.

Ruthie tried to open her eyes to see his angry face, but she couldn't. She was dieing.

It wasn't long before she was yanked from her body once again and thrown into another emotional scene. Only this time, she wasn't in her own mind- she was in Simon's. It was a dream.

He was at a party, knocking back beer after beer, laughing and joking with his friends. He heading outside, stumbling to his car. He dug around in his pocket for his keys and pulled them out, taking stab after stab at the keyhole. He threw his head back, finishing off his beer, and tossed it out the window before starting the car.

The road wasn't much of a road. It was as if he was driving through a very long, very dark tunnel. Nobody was there but him. He was swerving, clearly drunk, but there wasn't anything else on the road…yet. Seconds later, he slammed on the brakes. Ruthie was standing in the middle of the road. He hit her, blood showering the windshield. She was dead – he killed her.

Ruthie tried to squeeze her eyes shut, but they were already closed. Thankfully, another flash came and the scene changed. She was standing at the side of the road where there had been an accident. She already knew whose. Closer she walked, already knowing what she would see.

The paramedics were pulling Brian free from the mangled car. His bones were broken, his face unrecognizable from all the blood. He was stained. Had she been smart and not allowed him to drive, this wouldn't have happened. She killed him.

As she looked past Brian's body and wrecked car, there was another vehicle. A woman with a small child was standing outside her car, which wasn't nearly as demolished as Brian's. The little girl was crying, gripping a teddy bear tightly. Her mother was trying to turn the child's head so she would not see the scene. Thankfully they weren't hurt as far as Ruthie's could see, but it was horrible to see what she had impacted on their innocent lives.

There was one last scene Ruthie was ordered to see: her funeral. Reverend Hamilton was giving the service. A large photo of herself was positioned next to a vase of flowers. She was smiling. It was hard to think back to those days when she would give anything not to be the daughter of a minister. But now, she would give anything to be one if it meant she could be alive.

They were lowering her coffin into the ground. Her eyes scanned the crowd. She recognized a lot of kids from school. Then she saw Simon. His face was blank. He had already shut down, she noticed. He had built walls to get through those days without admitting he was weak to anyone. He was allowing himself to feel anger instead of whatever else it was he should have felt.

She felt herself breaking down, losing focus…

And suddenly it was over. Her hair went limp and her lungs expanded. The heat gave way to comforting warmth. Slowly, she allowed her muscles to relax and opened her eyes. She found herself rooted to the same spot behind her grave. It seemed like nothing had happened, like nothing was different; but everything had changed. She could feel.

The sun was hot on her back, the shade of the trees cool on her skin. She had forgotten what that was like. It was amazing how such simple things could make her so happy.

And then he saw her.

It wasn't how Ruthie pictured this moment to be. He kind of stared at her for a moment, looked her up and down. He didn't look shocked or surprised, or afraid. There wasn't any emotion in his eyes at all.

Ruthie watched her shadow move across his face. She was beginning to doubt if he was really seeing her. Unsurely, she reached out and touched his shoulder.

He jumped slightly and rose from his spot, eyeing her peculiarly.

"Simon?" she said, confused as to how he was reacting. What was he thinking? She had been prepared for rage, for tears, but not for this.

He shook his head. "God, I _am_ crazy," he said softly, not taking his eyes off his deceased sister.

"No, Simon," she assured him, "you're not crazy. I promise."

"This can't be happening," he said with a nervous laugh. "This_ isn't _happening."

Ruthie stepped around the grave, surpassing the dividing line. They stood face to face with nothing standing between them.

"But it is," she replied. She took his hand and placed it on her chest so he could feel the proof.

Quickly, he jerked her hand way. "How-?" he stuttered.

"I don't know, but the important thing is that I'm here now."

"No, you're not. You're dead. I watched you die." His voice shook a bit, but he quickly composed himself.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Simon's cheeks turned red with fury. "Sorry for what? For drinking? For getting killed? What, Ruthie?"

She bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering though tears slipped down her cheeks. "For everything."

He looked disgusted. "You can't imagine what hell I went through. I worried about you every second that you laid in that hospital bed. I warned you not to do something stupid. I told you to learn from my mistake! How the hell do you think you would have felt if I had died!"

"I know! And I'm sorry, Simon!" she screamed. "I'm sorry. If I could take it back, I would, but I can't!"

"You knew the consequences. You've seen the videos. You've heard the stories. What did you think those were, cartoons?"

"No, I didn't think any of those things would happen. I thought I could control myself."

Simon scoffed. "Well, that's exactly why you got killed. When you drank, you sealed your fate. When you got in that car, you sealed your fate. Even before you stepped out that door, you sealed your fate." He paused. "You buried yourself, not me."

"I'm so sorry, Simon. I am. I know that just saying that won't – can't – change things, but I needed you to know," she said. "That's why I'm here."

"Well, you're wasting your time."

"Why?" Ruthie asked.

"You didn't say any of that for me – you said it to make yourself feel better."

Ruthie shook her head. "No, I didn't. I know how alone, how guilty, you feel. I've seen you cry. I've been with you. And knowing that I made you so depressed makes me want to die all over again. I don't want to make myself feel better, Simon. I want to make you feel better."

He didn't say anything. He felt tears sting at the back of his eyes, but he forced them away.

"You didn't kill me, Simon. _I_ killed me. I don't want you to hate me. I don't want you to cry over me every night. I don't want you to miss me." She sighed. "All I want is for you to love me and remember me the way I was."

Simon swallowed. "I love you, Ruthie. I could never forget you."

Ruthie gave him a weak smile. "Do you forgive me?"

It was quiet for a moment before Simon replied, "Yes, I forgive you."

She stood on her toes and put her arms around his neck to give him a hug. He hugged her back. It felt so good to be loved. She had forgotten what it was like to be touched by another human being and to feel their heart beat against hers.

"I don't want you to be alone," she said, her voice surrendering to the tears.

Simon shook his head. "I'm not. Not anymore."

"I don't know how much time I have," she said against his cotton T-shirt, "but please don't let me go."

Simon held her tighter. "I can't."


	10. Cheating Fate

**Under the Influence**

Ten: _Cheating Fate_

There were hands on her shoulders, a whisper in her ears. Her body twitched. The voice was indiscernible, could have been a man or a woman, but it was comforting and warm. Where was she? It seemed as if she were lying on a cold, hard floor. She was afraid to open her eyes.

The last thing she remembered was clinging to Simon for dear life before she fell back into the ground, into her grave. Everything had gone dark. She couldn't see. She couldn't hear. She couldn't feel. She had died all over again.

A scent of jasmine filled her nose. Why did that smell so familiar…? It took her a moment, but then: _my mother's perfume._ A sudden feeling of calm washed over her. Slowly, she cracked open one eye, not really expecting anything.

"Finally," Annie said exasperatedly. "You're alarm was going off like crazy. I'm surprised you didn't wake up."

Ruthie stared at her mother blankly. "Huh?"

"Get up, or you'll be late for school." Confident her daughter would do as she was told, Annie turned and left the room without another word.

Ruthie pushed herself up into a sitting position. She looked around her room as if she were seeing it for the first time. Everything was the same. Her pictures were still on the walls, the other day's clothes in a pile on the floor. Ruthie looked down. She wasn't wearing her pajamas. Her heart beat faster. She was wearing the same teal dress that she had been buried in.

"What day is it?" she said to herself frantically. Jumping out of bed, Ruthie scrambled to her desk. She grabbed her calendar. September 10, 2006.

She ran into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. Her reflection was exactly the same. She poked at her face, at her flesh, and then at the walls. Nothing happened; she was really there. Unexpectedly, she began to laugh. It was a dream. It _had_ to have been a dream.

"Just a dream," she assured herself.

On her way down to breakfast, she and Simon met at the top landing of the stairs. They shared no words, but a look that unnerved her. Their eyes held the same expression, both thinking the same thoughts. Then the moment passed. Ruthie gave a polite smile and left.

* * *

Ruthie was gathering her books from her locker when she spotted Brian coming at her from the corner of her eye. She closed the metal door and turned as he came to stand in front of her. He kissed her on the cheek in greeting. Ruthie smiled.

"What are you doing tonight?" Brian asked her as he leaned against the wall of lockers.

Ruthie thought. "Nothing," she replied. "Why? You have something in mind?"

He shrugged. "Well, I heard about this really raving party tonight, and I was thinking about going."

"No!" Ruthie screamed suddenly on impulse. The kids around them threw her odd glances and continued walking, whispering.

"What's the matter?" he asked, giving her a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

Ruthie looked away, and replied. "No. I'm, yeah, I'm fine. I just wanted to…go see a movie with you tonight instead."

Brian nodded. "Sure, that's sounds better. It'll be fun spending time with just you." He smiled and gave her a kiss on the lips.

She smiled. "Good. I'll see you tonight, around…seven then?"

"Seven is perfect." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and walked her to class.

Ruthie couldn't help but feel uneasy. She was sure it was just a coincidence, but she couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than that.

* * *

Ruthie waved over her shoulder to her parents as she walked out the door with Brian. He opened the car door for her as another thought crept into her mind. She latched her seatbelt and he started the car.

"Brian?" she said softly, staring at her hands in her lap. "Is everything okay with you?"

He seemed to laugh. "Sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I don't know," she said. "We don't really talk about your parents, and I was just wondering why."

The smile faded from his face slightly. "I just don't really like to talk about them, that's all."

Ruthie pushed on. "But we talk about my parents all the time, I just want to know about yours."

Brian's hands tightened on the wheel and Ruthie knew she had hit a nerve. Of course, she knew that going into it.

"I never asked you to talk about your parents," he said trying not to sound too angry or rude. "Besides, your parents are happy."

Ruthie sighed. "Brian, I just want you to be able to talk to me. I want to be here for you the way you're here for me."

"What do you want to know?"

"Just tell me the truth."

"Okay, you want to know the truth? The truth is, Ruthie, they don't give a damn about me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Ruthie said.

"Yes, it is. All they care about is who gets what out of their divorce. They fight all the time, but never over me. Not even _once._"

They pulled into the parking lot. As Brian turned off the ignition, they sat in silence.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," Ruthie said.

Brian looked at her, the anger gone from his eyes. He sighed. "Don't be sorry. I'm glad you know."

Ruthie gave him a smile and squeezed his hands. "You can tell me anything, okay?"

Brian laughed softly, uncomfortable with the serious feeling in the air. "I know."

"Good. Now open my door," Ruthie said jokingly.

Brian rolled his eyes playfully and got out of the car.

* * *

"There is no way that Johnny Depp is cuter than me!" Brian said defensively.

Ruthie giggled as she took Brian's hand. "I don't know…I think he might be. Just barely."

"Oh, stop." He said as they made there way out of the movies still laughing.

They were almost to the parking lot when Ruthie bumped shoulders with a pale man with dark hair. She turned around to apologize but when she saw whose face she was looking at, the words left her mouth.

The man was dressed in only white with matching shoes. He looked to be about thirty and not a bit ugly. There was sort of a comforting glow about him. He smiled at her and winked.

Ruthie's gaping mouth closed and she smiled as the man disappeared around a corner.

"Who was that?" Brian asked.

Ruthie took his hand once again and they continued their way to the car. "I don't know."

* * *

The house was dark when Ruthie arrived home that night. There was a lone glow of light coming from the kitchen. Ruthie knew that it would be her parents waiting up for her. She went to say goodnight, but it wasn't her parents who were at the table.

"Simon? What are you doing up?" Ruthie asked as she removed her coat.

He set down the cookie he had in his hand. "Couldn't sleep," he replied shortly. It wasn't exactly a lie. There was just something in the back of his head that was saying Ruthie might not come home.

"Oh," Ruthie said and nodded. She grabbed a cookie off of Simon's plate. "Well, I should be getting to bed."

She was almost to the top of the stairs when she turned around. She had remembered the look she and Simon shared earlier that day. Simon was putting the remained share of his cookies back into the jar when Ruthie appeared in the kitchen.

She didn't say anything, just looked at him. He seemed to freeze for a moment as he tried to read her. He set the plate in the sink and asked, "What?"

"Um… I wanted to tell you about a dream I had," she said.

"Okay…" Simon sat back down in the chair and Ruthie joined him.

"Well, okay, I had this dream where I...died."

Simon's heart sped up. "Yeah?"

"Well, this morning I woke up and I wasn't wearing my pajamas. I was wearing the dress that I was wearing in my dream…. I'm not saying that it actually happened or anything, but you were there. That's why I'm telling you. When I was 'dieing' you were there and you told me that you hated me."

Simon stared at her, listening to the words coming out of her mouth.

"And then you came to my grave and told me that you didn't really know why you were there and that – "

" – the boys missed you. I said that nothing would be the same…."

"Oh, my God, you remember!" Ruthie almost yelled. It was all she could do not to jump out of her chair with surprise.

"Of course I remember! That was the worst thing that could ever happen to me! I woke up this morning wanting to kill myself."

"But, how?" Ruthie asked. "It was just a dream. How could we both have the same dream?" She was trembling as she remembered the man on the street. It _was _Kendall.

Simon shook his head.

"It was real," Ruthie whispered. "I got a second chance."

"What?" Simon asked, unable to understand what Ruthie had said.

"There was a man tonight," she explained. "I bumped into him on the street and he sort of winked at me. In my dream, or whatever, he said he was my guardian angel. It must have been him."

"This is impossible," Simon said. "People don't just die and then come back. It's ridiculous."

After a moment, she nodded. "You're right. It _is_ ridiculous. It was just a dream."

"Right," Simon replied firmly, but not a bit satisfied. "Let's go to bed."

Ruthie grabbed her coat from the back of the chair. "Yeah."

Simon flicked the kitchen light off and he and Ruthie said goodnight at the second floor landing. They both knew that something had really happened, that it wasn't just a dream, but it wasn't explainable. It was just easier to say they had the same dream than to have to acknowledge the pain they both still felt. They never spoke of it again.

That night, Ruthie went to bed thanking God for every minute of her life.

**The End**


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